Castlevania: Child of Fenrir
by Armored Knight
Summary: Dracula has drawn out yet another hero from the shadows, an excaptain with, literally, devilish looks. When his ignorance is shattered by the Curse of Fenrir, he now seeks to reclaim what is his, and remove the curse for good.
1. Chapter 1: The Game Begins

"Hey kid! You want a drink o' what!"

A young man snapped back to reality, drawing his coat closer to his body, and his hood further down. The bartender merely got a little more frustrated and banged his fist on the counter, in front of the man.

"You gonna get a drink, or not? I've got other customers to git to, and if you ain't buyin', git out!"

"I apoligize, sir. I'll just have an ale," the young man replied. The bartender sighed and as he turned to get one of the bottles from behind him, another drunk sat down next to the young man and patted him on the back, looking at the bartender.

"I'll buy for 'im. Make it a good 'ard rum, mate."

The bartender merely nodded a second time, only this time left the counter. Seemingly cold, the young man drew his coat even closer, and looked down, giving a slight cough. It was aparrent he was avoiding all eye contact with anyone. However, the drunk man who sat next to him pulled him up, surprising him greatly, and his hood slightly jumped up, revealing his bright red eyes in the firelight.

"Hey kid, y'alright?" the drunk man asked. The hooded man revealed a smile.

"Yes, I'm fine, just sleepy. Haven't had a good wink in a few weeks."

"You seem alright kid, this drink'll get you up'n'kicking. So tell me, what's yer name? Got a name kid?"

The hooded man drew back his covering, and let down his long, pure white hair. His skin was pale, and his eyes retained a look that belonged to one kind of human: a soldier.

"You may call me Falgor."

"F-Falgor?" the drunk stuttered. "Captain Falgor Kaisu of the 'Shattered Shield' platoon?"

The white-haired man, presumed to be this Captain Falgor, laughed and looked ahead. "Yes, that'd be me. Sorry if I don't look any meaner or older."

"Who cares! I'm meetin' with a legend! M'name's Lucas Baker, such as honor to meet you," he said, shaking Falgor's hand. "So tell me here cap'n, what brings you 'round these parts?"

"I'm merely on travels, and please, don't call me captain. I retired early, hoping to get away from anymore conflicts. I'm here because I'm seeking my fortunes, see what I can't invest in, then once I'm done, I plan on returning home and to my fiancé, Gabrielle."

"Beauty mate! It's good a fit young man such as yourself is getting married to a nice gal. Have you waited any longer, and you'd be in this pub, same as me, drinking and singing your worries and cares away!" Lucas told him. "I had me chance a few years back, the country tryin' to recover from the Dracula incidents-"

Falgor laughed at the name 'Dracula'. "Please, Dracula? The _vampire_? I hardly believed that crazed story. You ask someone like myself and you'll be garunteed they don't believe that nonsense."

"It's true mate, Dracula was terrorizin' the countryside with his minions of darkness, until Trevor Belmont and his comrades sealed that blood-suckin' beast away. The Belmonts have been fightin' him ever since."

"Belmont? Trevor Belmont? Now you tell me that man existed?"

"Why do you doubt it? It's clear something happened, and it wasn't an ordinary army gallavantin' around."

"Because, I was in this area two years ago during the last major conflict, and I've seen nothing out of the ordinary," Falgor refuted.

"Have you had stray men found mauled to death?"

"We assumed without a doubt it was enemy forces sneaking around, after all, we did find the enemy forces not too far off."

Lucas furrowed his eyebrows, and looked at Falgor gravely.

"What about flayed bodies? Bodies ripped to pieces by a viciously large animal? Men driven insane?"

"Once again, we assumed. I thought it was merely terror tactics."

"Be wary than," he warned, "because one o' these days you're not gonna be so lucky to believe your stories. You're gonna see the horrors Dracula once wrought upon these lands-"

The bartender returned with a latter, and a wooden club, which he proceeded to hit Lucas over the head with, and set the ladder up. He climbed up the ladder, grabbed a bottle made of dark glass; itcontained a blood red substance inside. Then, he proceeded to remove himself from the ladder, and poured Falgor's and Lucas's drinks.

"Quit tryin' to scare the kid. After all, nothing has happened around here anymore since Trevor beat 'im, might as well let 'im live in bliss."

Falgor was beginning to grow impatient with these people. He knew for a fact, that a small group lead by a man armed with naught but a whip, and other weapons of 'holy origin'that could possible never work, defeating a castle filled with animated skeletons, night-beasts that would only exist in myths such as succubuses, gorgons, and mer-men, then defeat something that can't be killed by normal, conventional methods. He knew that it as utter nonsense. As he was about to pick up his drink and down it, the bartender called his name.

"You Falgor? Tha's great, some guy was in town lookin' fer ya. Said he had a message for you."

"A message?"

"Yep, said it was real important. Somethin' about a kidnapping."

"Well, if you meet this man again, tell him I'll be in one of the rooms upstairs," he said to the bartender as he got up to leave. However, when he did try to take a step forward, he noticed a man dressed in a brown cloak, leather armor with a design of a falcon embroidered into it. The man had dark red hair, he too was pale, but from what Falgor saw, this man was panicked. He looked up, shakily, and made eye-contact with Falgor, and then, his skin regained color, as if he was relieved.

"Captain!" he cried as he ran inside the pub and embraced Falgor, who returned it, patting the man on the back.

"Miguel, it is wonderful to see you again! Tell me, how's the wife?"

Miguel backed away, and nodded his head. "Maribel is fine, thank you. Your brother is still a little frustrated at not having you in the military; you were such a good soldier." He suddenly went pale again, then grabbed Falgor's shoulders. "That's right, I shouldn't be rambling on about this. Falgor, have you heard anything from or about Gabrielle?"

He tilted his head, and looked at Miguel, puzzled. "No, not recently. Last messenger delivered a letter from her, and that was two months ago."

"She's been kidnapped."

"What?" Falgor whispered. "She's been kidnapped?"

"I'll explain up in your room, too many listening ears around..."

Falgor nodded in agreement, and took the key that was on the counter where he sat. The two of them went upstairs, and found the room. He looked at it for a moment, the wood making up the door was near gnawed apart by something, probably termites, and the brass plate that had the room number was rusted. However, the number was clearly visible: 3164. Miguel looked at his companion, and Falgor nodded his head, slipping the key into the lock, and the turned it until a sort of click noise was heard, and they pushed their way inside.

The room was rather dingy and sparsely furnished, just a musty old bed and an unkempt oil lamp hanging from the middle of the ceiling. A wind howled outside, furiously and unnaturally, as if signalling evil was afoot. Miguel nervously went over to the bed and sat on it, wringing his hands.He looked up at Falgor, who was closing the door, then leaned on the wall.

"So explain. How did it happen?"

"I'm not sure, I-"

"I thought I had ordered around the clock watches on the perimeter of the estate! Guards posted outside her room, and everywhere else there was valuables!" he shouted.

"Please, sir, let me explain! It didn't seem like there was a break-in. Her room was untouched, and strangely, there was a message on her wall, carved into it with some crude object."

Falgor's eyes reflected curiosity. "What did it say?" he asked. His friend merely sat up, and his voice quievered, as if fear itselfwas slowly creeping into his body, and strangling him.

"'The game begins, Falgor Kaisu.'"

He wasn't exactly sure what this meant, for him, and for Gabrielle. Normal kidnappers would merely leave a ransom note, or something of the sort, but this one didn't. No, this one seemed to think he, or she, was playing a game with him. Well, whomever it was, Falgor wanted to make sure he or she would taste the end of his steel edge.

"Miguel, I trust you arranged a search party?" Falgor asked.

"Yes sir, I did. They found nothing. Not a footstep, not anything out of place. It's as if the kidnapper could _float_!"

Falgor tried to laugh, but it came out awkward. "What, like a, phantom? A ghost? An otherworldly spirit! Miguel, don't try and scare me with this nonsense. I don't believe in such fairy tales," he declared.

"But sir-"

"No buts! You should arrange a bigger search party, and search the entire countryside if you need to, I want Gabrielle found! I'm going to return to the manor and make sure of it myself!"

Miguel stood up, as an act of defiance to the former military captain. "No. You should continue your travels. I swear upon my alliegence to thee, that she shall be found, and the kidnapper put to justice."

The messenger's eyes showed he was very serious indeed in carrying out his task. Falgor listened and watched in absolute surprise as Miguel ordered him to do something, instead of the other way around. He remembered it was always like this, since he was fifteen to the day of his retirement from the military. Now he thought this man was the most loyal soldier in all of Romania.

"Fine. I shall leave here tomorrow morn, and not return to the manor, but continue my travels.In doing so, I order you to continue the search for my beloved, however, keep the one responsible alive and behind bars, chained, until my return. When I do, I shall deliver justice in my own way," Falgor ordered Miguel.

The messenger nodded his head, and smiled with pride, then left the room, leaving Falgor all by himself. However, Falgor couldn't quite shake the feeling Miguel was hiding something the entire time. He had a sense about these kind of things. But, the way things stood, he had no choice but to leave it be. With that, he left the room himself, shutting the door behind him (though it fell down once he closed it)then made his way down the stairs. There, he saw Lucas sleeping on the pub counter, many bottles around his head. A bit of a pitiful sight, but nontheless, it was Lucas's fault for drinking himself to sleep, yet despite that, it was a little humorous.

Falgor continued his way outside, leaving several gold coins on the counter, and saw the wagon from the caravan. Oddly enough, there was nobody watching it, which he knew they always did, and even stranger was his sword was waiting for him, leaning against the side of the wagon. He went over to it, picked up the five foot bastard sword, then took the leather strap and clipped it diagonally across his chest. The weight was nothing, considering he had done this plenty of times, with armor on as well. However, the only bit of armor he ever wore anymore was a silver breastplate that ended at his waist. Seeing as he was done with getting what he needed, he took leave into the night, the wind howling and swirling leaves about, pattering trees against houses and scratching windows. Then, just then, as if the wind had a voice, someone, something spoke to him.

"The game begins, Falgor Kaisu. The game begins."


	2. Chapter 2: Ignorance is Not Always Bliss

The wind howled all around Falgor as he tried to make his way west of the town. He figured that the wind would die down within an hour, and from then he would set up a temporary camp and figure out where to go from there. However, something kept prying his thoughts over and over, interrupting him. Falgor wondered what that message had meant, all it had done was confuse and disturb him.

_The game begins, Falgor Kaisu. _the message played in his head again.

Now he was becoming furious. Whoever had kidnapped his fiancé surely did not have the spine to challenge him in person, and he loathed cowards. He remembered back in his unit, that he made sure none of them turned tail, and there were plenty of deserters to re-educate, and now, there was one more he had to finish off.

Falgor drew his coat closer to his body, shielding himself from the cold air rushing around him. It didn't feel natural, and it made him wonder why the locals believed those stories of Dracula and the Belmont family. The stories made no sense to him, because it was absolute nonsense. How on earth could any those events happen? And, the thought of a single man challenging a hoarde of supernatural beasts with just a leather whip was pure fiction. Still, it just made him wonder why they believed the stories so strongly. Now he supposed this was a very superstitious part of Romania, or a crazy one. Whichever it was, he readily threw out the idea that any of the stories and myths were true.

Something snapped him out of his musing and analyzing, a light in the distance. It wasn't too bright, but he figured it was from a small oil lamp. Falgor thought it might have been one of the men from the caravan, going out ahead to find a path or something, they aways did things like that to be safe. He continued forward, the lamp's light getting bigger, and brighter. The sound of leaves crunching under his step was beginning to make him feel uneasy, as well as the howling wind that subsided. Then, he noticed that the usual nighttime noises were not being made, as if something silenced them from the world. Things were getting more frightening for Falgor, his mind in great distress, though he tried to be calm as he approached a man with a tattered brown cloak, holding the oil lamp. However, Falgor noticed that the man smelled very odd, yet the scent was familiar.

"Excuse me, sir? Are you with the caravan?" Falgor asked.

The cloaked man didn't respond, he merely sat there, looking about, but not in his direction. Falgor drew closer, and in suspicion, readied his hand to draw his sword from behind him.

"Sir? Are you with the caravan?" he asked once more.

Falgor reached his hand forward, and grabbed the man's shoulder, and suddenly, a hand grabbed his. It didn't feel quite right, like a normal person's hands. They felt dreadfully cold, and they felt rotten. The man turned his head, and the hood fell back, revealing his face, making Falgor want to vomit right then and there. His face was gray, the skin was rotting, one of eyes was pure white, some of the skin was missing, and with all this, Falgor realized where he had found this scent before. It was the stench of death.

Suddenly, the creature dropped the lamp and tried to grab Falgor in an attempt to attack him somehow, but he managed to set his knee to his chest and his foot to the creature's chest, and kicked it away from him. Falgor quickly unsheathed his blade, holding the leather wrapped handle with both hands as he saw the creature stumble back to its feet. Then, he noticed more groans from around him, and turned his head to find more of this gray-skinned humans dragging their feet toward him.

"What in the name of... What are these foul things!" he screamed as he drew his blade out from behind him. The creatures drew forth, making Falgor feel extremely fearful. Falgor wanted to believe this was all just a nightmare, that he was sleeping, tossing and turning in his bed. However, one of them was crafty enough, brain-dead as they are, to try and sneak up from behind him and managed to bring its hand down upon his back, forcefully. Stunned from the blow, he fell forward and landed on his knee,the breath knocked out of him, and he went into a half-concious state.

He felt nothing but fear and confusion, two very dangerous combinations, as the creatures crept closer and closer toward him. His heart was pounding out of his chest, and his breathing became shallow. It was then he realized he'd probably die to this cannabilistic peoples, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. Falgor stood up, gaining his second wind and drew his five-foot greatsword, staggering his legs to control the weight. The first to get to him was the first to recieve a powerful cut to the head, slicing a near-perfect forty-five degree angle from the creature's jaw. Normally, his reaction would be to attack the next one closest to him, but this time it was different. In pure shock, his eyes widened as the one he attacked still lumbered on, despite a nice chunk of its face being missing. Whatever this devilry was, he knew he had no chance against it.

With that, he quickly turned tail and started running in whatever direction those _things _weren't in. After what felt like an hour of running for his life, hearing nothing but the his panting and the uncomfortable silence of the forest. Cold, numb, and scared out of his wits, he sank down against a tree, his heart still hammering its way out of his chest.

"What were those devils?" he mumbled to himself. "They couldn't have been human, it's impossible for humans to live through a mortal blow such as that. But it's also rubbish that they could have been the walking dead. Am I delerlious? Was it something in the food or drink from that rundown pub? Probably, they probably did this just to try and make me afraid of those stupid stories!"

Falgor rested for a good ten minutes before getting back up, holding his sword gingerly, then shouted, "You hear me! I'm not buying your jokes! You hear me! I am not falling for it, I'm not going to believe your wild stories! Y-"

A rustling noise nearby cut him off, and he took his sword into his hands, waiting. However, he realized he shouldnt've; what appeared from the bushes was impossible to him, a walking skeleton brandishing an iron spear. He couldn't believe what he saw and heard, the bones were pure white, as if someone had meticulously scraped off the rot, and heard the clatter of bones with each of the skeleton's steps. Whimpering silently, he slowly backed away, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head, and his face completely white. Just then, more clattering was heard from behind the skeleton, and more appeared from the ground or from the bushes, then it was time for his second retreat. Falgor turned to run, breaking into an all out dash to who knows where, then after a while, he stopped once more, breathing even heavier than before. Now he knew he wasn't hallucinating or dreaming anymore, these were _real. _Those rotting corpses he saw moving about trying to attack him, they were the walking dead, and the animated skeletons were acts of the fabled magick of necromancy. What frightened him the most was that what he had so strongly believed was nothing but pure fantasy was, in fact, reality. Finally, he had stopped in the cover of bushes and shrubs, permitting himself to have a breath.

However, his heart leapt violently when a voice shocked him from his resting place.

"Excuse me sir, thou'rt the captain Falgor Kaisu?" the voice asked.

He looked up and saw a sight that didn't seem welcoming, but he welcomed it anyway. It was a thin man wearing a butler's uniform, his skin pale and his hair whiter than his own. The old butler had a kind, gentle smile that steadied Falgor's nerves, and he stood back up on his feet, putting his sword away.

"Aye, I am Falgor, but I am no captain, not anymore. Tell me, what do you wish of me, and how do you know my name?"

"Oh, my master has heard of your feats, and wishes to meet with you personally."

"Wait," Falgor interrupted, "how did your master know I was coming?"

The old butler smiled, it looked warm, but it felt chilly. "Oh, that's his secret. I never question his orders. Come, his castle is this way."

So Falgor did follow the butler, but again, he was on his guard. With such happenings going on, he couldn't afford to be caught unprepared a third time. Also, he was confused. He didn't know there was a castle around these parts, and if there was, who would want to have a castle in this cursed land? He then gulped, and thought that possibly it was the vampire everyone feared. Once again, he pushed the thought from his mind, because he didn't want fear to overwhelm him. The wind blew, but he didn't feel it, and to him, this was an ominous sign.

"How much longer to the castle?" he asked.

"Not much longer," the butler said stiffly. "And remember, my master wishes your precense, so don't do anything to present yourself as rude."

"I'll keep that in mind-"

In awe, his jaw would have dropped had he not wanted to remain polite and not like some simpleton as he saw the marvelous castle. It sat perfectly in front of the rising moon, one of the towers splitting it in half, it seemed. The butler merely coughed, and lead the way inside. Falgor continued to marvel about this wonderous place, it was on top of a hill, a lake behind it, the master of this beautiful piece of architecture must have had a very good eye to have it here.

"Like it?"

Falgor continued to look around as he said, "It's wonderful. Granted, I haven't seen many castles in my time, but this must be the best of them all."

Creakily, the drawbridge suddenly started going up. He hadn't realized that he even crossed it, but it bugged him now. It went up on its own.

"Don't worry, don't mind anything but where I lead you. Keep following me," the butler ordered.

This old man was starting to annoy him, but he still remained stoic to his words. Then he remembered a question he had wanted to ask him.

"Who is your master anyway?" Falgor asked curiously.

"Why, you should know him. Hell, you should fear him."

"Really?"

"Yes, after all, he is the Lord Dracula."

The ex-captain stopped dead in his tracks.


	3. Chapter 3: Fenrir's Terror

Hallo peoples! I'm sorry for not updating this little fanfic. I've been a little busy with school, sports, videogames, and MMOs such as Maplestory. Here we go folks, ON WITH THE SHOW!

"You did not just say Lord Dracula, did you not?" Falgor asked. The butler didn't look at him, but he could sense that the old man was either grinning at his fear or laughing silently.

"Of course I did. Why would I joke about such a thing?"

"He… That's just his name, right? It's not like he's the _vampire_ Lord Dracula, correct?" he questioned nervously. "I mean, the whole myth and all, it must be just a name to keep people away from his lovely keep."

The butler looked back at him, and Falgor saw false warmth. "Yes," was his response. "He isn't that silly legend, but try to imagine if he was. How frightened would you be?"

Suddenly, the old man struck one of Falgor's many nerves, and he growled intensely, but quietly. Never before had he been insulted by someone of lower rank than himself, and not have to fight back the urge to kill him. Still, trying to keep a gentlemanly outlook, he fought his hardest not to clench his fists, or draw his sword.

"I imagine I'd be very afraid," he lied. "I wouldn't want to lose my head."

"Oh, I'd imagine he'd have much better plans instead of sucking your blood."

They arrived to a pair of giant doors, then the old butler rapped on it sharply three times, and one of the giant steel gates opened, creaking with every inch they moved. The old man lead the albino soldier inside, and there was a magnificent feast set out before him. A long, long table filled with the finest foods that a king would be too unworthy too eat, or even the gods. Feeling downright ravenous, he sat down at the chair provided for him, and stared at the table. His mind told him to start eating, but his morality told him to wait for Lord Dracula. Suddenly, as if from nowhere, he saw another man sitting at the other end of the table, pale skin and white hair, which made Falgor wonder if this person was albino as well. Just then, the man started speaking.

"Greetings and salutations, Captain Falgor Kaisu. I am the lord of this manor, Dracula," the man said. Eerily enough, it didn't sound like he was raising his voice to get his words across the table; it was as if Dracula was right next to him. "I trust you are very confused this night, are you not?"

Falgor knew it was his turn to respond, always speak when spoken to. "Yes, I am. I thought I was delirious from the townspeople's food or drink, I kept running into strange creatures this night." He could make out a wry smile from the old lord.

"Yes, skeletons and the undead, a most confusing thing isn't it? A man who doesn't believe in ghost stories seems to be running from them," he chuckled. "It's as if you really do believe in them, and I am curious why."

Again, Falgor spoke. "I was afraid, and not sure if I-"

"You weren't delirious. You saw true undead."

"But how is that possible?!" Falgor cried. "They are only stories, something you'd only encounter in nightmares! I mean, it must be coincidence that you are named from the vampire Dracula!"

A silence followed Falgor's words, and suddenly, it was shattered when the lord laughed as cold as the night outside the walls of his castle.

"Only nightmares?! My boy, you are truly ignorant. You," he ordered, snapping his fingers, "give my gift to our guest."

The butler bowed and walked over to Falgor, holding out a red-velvet pillow with an emerald green medallion on it. He was reluctant to take it, seeing as this man was strange, but it'd be very rude to not accept such a fine gift. Then again, it didn't seem natural, the way the medallion gleamed in the firelight, but something about it made him take it up, and slip it around his neck, letting the weight settle into his body. Falgor looked up at his host, and looked in confusion.

"What is this?" he asked.

"A special gift to a warrior of great skill and fame. You fight like a beast on the battlefield, so it's fitting you become one!"

At first, the albino wasn't very receptive to his tone, but it was ignored; he felt a burning feeling shoot through his veins, seeping pain into every nerve ending. Falgor toppled off his chair, screaming in agony. The last thing he remembered seeing was his strange host standing over him, grinning, and being dragged before blacking out.

When he came to, he found himself sleeping, back to the ceiling, on a lush bed. At first, he didn't want to get off, because he was so tired and he wanted to sleep, but that isn't what he set out to do. Now he had a sudden feeling that his host had something to do with the kidnapping of his lover. Not a truly sure, but it was a hunch. Falgor got up, groaning in pain, and when he slid off the bed, there were small white hairs where he had sat.

_Does this man have a dog?_ he wondered. _Because I swear, I do NOT lose that much hair._

His surprise came to him when he saw himself in a mirror. It wasn't that his host had a white dog, it was that HE was the white dog. He ran up to it, and studied his newfound features, fearfully. His human features were the same, no doubt, but his ears were gone, and replacing them, pointed wolf ears sat on the top of his head. Nervously, he stepped back, and when he did, he saw something else move in the mirror, from side to side. Falgor grabbed this white object, tried to pull it around him so he could see it, and even more surprisingly, he yelped in pain. Still trying to see what it was, he turned his head, and saw coming out of his lower back was a long, white, bushy tail.

Falgor sat there for the longest time, as if time itself had stopped. He was sitting there, almost to the brink of tears, realizing his ignorance cost him dearly, his humanity. He was no longer a human, more rather, some sort of modified werewolf. It was the most horrifying thing that had ever happened to him, since the death of his father, leaving him, his older brother, and three sisters to assist their mother in their survival.

Finally, a loud "THUMP" jolted him into reality, and he stared at the door. He noticed even the silence itself was louder, and maybe he realized it wasn't all too bad, being canine in ways. With no weapon. he prepared himself for hand-to-hand combat, something he wasn't too fond of. Inching closer and closer to the door, he nearly shouted his battle-cry when the door burst open, and was shut by a strange looking youth.

The youth breathed heavily, as if he had been running for days straight, and Falgor took the time to study him. He had long, light green hair, and layered black robes. His eyes were a dark green, contrasting his hair, and his face was as pale as his own. Finally, the youth noticed Falgor and stepped back, afraid of him.

"Please, don't hurt me!"

"Now why would I have any reason to hurt a young man like yourself?" he asked.

The youth stammered, "Yo-You look l-like a m-m-monster..."

For the first time since he arrived, he laughed a true laugh. "Monster?!" he chuckled. "You think me a monster, lad? You think wrongly. I am Falgor Lunos Kaisu, and I, too, run from those beasts."

"You too? How come?"

"Well," he began, "I was once human, but the host of this castle gave me this necklace, and I passed out for some reason. Then, I woke up a few moments ago to find myself like this!"

The youth tried to smile, but he still looked frightened. "The medallion? I may not know much of artifacts, but I think that could be Fenrir's Moon."

"Fenrir? The legendary wolf?"

He nodded. "I think I trust you well enough now. You do seem clueless. My name is Venil Zalus, and I used to be a monk-in-training, but I gave that up to study plants."

_I suppose that explains the green hair. Not just a green thumb._ he mused to himself, laughing silently.

"Of course, I wasn't always looking like this. I became so indulged in my studies that the Lord Dracula hired me, and I was poisoned with some type of plant sap, making me this way. However, an unexpected result of the poisoning was that I can use the art of geomancy," Venil explained.

The cursed wolf looked at Venil's eyes, trying to decide if what he was saying is credible. Then again, there was too much going on that he used to believe shouldn't be happening, was happening.

"Alright. I'll assist you, but there is the problem of me being weaponless..."

"That's no problem!" Venil exclaimed. "Dracula has an armory near this place, and you can easily find a weapon to your liking."

"But I tried to use my old weapon against those... undead beasts and it hadn't worked."

"No doubt. I think it must be transformed, modified, so that it can defeat beasts like that. A weapon in the past was changed in such a manner."

Falgor raised an eyebrow. "The famous Belmont whip, the Vampire Slayer?"

"Yes. But we cannot call upon the aid of the Belmonts. This is our own, private matter."

"I think I could tell you that much, Mr. Zalus."

Venil sighed. "Well, I think at least you could get through. I'm not much of a fighter."

Falgor sighed, and grinned. "I'll be back. Garuntee it."

With that, he walked toward the door, opened it, and in a flash, ran out of the room, closing the door behind him.


End file.
